


Arrivals

by owlaholic68



Category: Monster of the Week (Tabletop RPG), Original Work
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Blood Drinking, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21621589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Jacques returns home from a long “business trip”.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 1





	Arrivals

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the mid 1950's. All characters are NPCs from my MOTW campaign.
> 
> Alternate title: Jacques is weirdly happy in this.

James Jenkins is sitting on a bench in the middle of the train station and trying not to spiral into a panic attack.

Hamilton Station on the north side of town is bustling and loud: parents failing to corral children, businessmen confidently striding by with flapping trenchcoats and bundled-up newspapers folded under their arms, the echoing click of women’s heels on the marble, the chime of the large central clock as the hour turns over to eleven.

It’s too loud in here. It’s too bright in here with the sun (a rare sight in this city) streaming through the large windows. Even from his bench refuge, the crowd seems to press too closely. He hates travelling to such an extent that even being somewhere like this is almost unbearable. The clock finishes its last chime. It’s eleven o’clock.

Eleven o’clock. Jacques’ train is supposed to come in at eleven.

James’ eyes snap up to the Arrivals timetable on the large board. As he watches, hands clenching and unclenching around the sleeve of his jacket, a train station attendant goes to the board and switches the arrival time for Jacques’ train to five minutes after eleven, then finally _(finally!)_ gives it a platform number.

Platform Twelve is on the opposite side of the station. James stands on shaky legs and does his best to maneuver through the chaos while touching as few people as possible. An older woman bumps into him and he steadies her with a tight smile. His heartbeat starts pulsing in his hands and every smell in this immense room clarifies.

James realizes that it was an incredibly terrible idea to come meet Jacques here instead of waiting for him at home. He has backup supplies that he’s been using while Jacques was gone on his “business trip”, but stored blood isn’t nearly as satisfying as the fresh kind. He can feel his breath getting faster.

James isn’t starving, but he is hungry.

He should leave now. He should run out the door and into the fresh air and just wait at home like he planned to. This was an awful, terrible idea-

A train horn blares. James has been walking without being fully conscious of it. He sees the train pull into the platform and starts jogging, mentally going over Jacques’ itinerary that he’s had memorized for weeks. He’s supposed to be in first class, third car, sitting in the third row so he’ll probably be one of the first ones out.

The train stops and the attendants start helping passengers out. James is running now, past the first car just as Jacques hops out. Recognizable even from the distance with his fluff of dark red hair and leather bomber jacket that James loves to borrow.

Jacques turns back to the train and extends his hand up to a woman with shoulder-length brown hair, but he turns and sees James coming.

His eyes widen and his face explodes into the sunniest grin James has ever seen, and that makes this whole thing worth it. Jacques abandons the woman he was helping and runs to meet James halfway, crashing into him and lifting him off the ground. He spins James around and laughs: Jacques never laughs his clear light laugh unless it’s because of James.

“You’re here!” He exclaims, finally setting James on his feet. “I can’t believe it! You came to meet me at the station!”

James smiles too, his eyes roaming his lover’s appearance to verify that all is well, that Jacques really is here in his arms. All his previous anxiety disappeared as soon as he heard Jacques’ voice. “Well, I felt bad making you get a cab home when we only live a few minutes away,” he lies, when he really wants to confess how terribly he’d missed Jacques this last month, and how badly he wanted to see him that he couldn’t even wait that much longer.

In response, Jacques hugs him tight and buries his face into his shoulder. “I missed you,” he whispers under the roar of the crowd around them. “Sweetheart, I’m so glad to see you. _Fuck,_ I missed you so much it hurt.”

“I missed you too.” James hugs him back and puts one hand on Jacques’ hair, threading fingers into his silk-soft curls. “Jacques, I-”

“Jacques, what the fuck!” A high sharp voice interrupts them. The woman from earlier that Jacques had abandoned is striding up to them, towing several suitcases and bags in her wake. “You left me and Harriett to grab all our shit so you could go make out with your boyfriend! And your bags are _heavy!”_ She kicks a suitcase in their general direction and throws a carry-on bag on the ground next to it.

Jacques pulls away from James with a sigh and a barely-concealed wince. “James, you’ve met my sisters before,” he says. “Their connecting flight to Germany got canceled so they’ll be staying in town for the weekend while we get things rescheduled.”

“It’s nice to see you again, James,” Lucy says. Her tone leaves no doubt that she actually isn’t pleased at all to see him. She’s already made her opinion of him clear.

A taller woman with long bone-white hair joins them, dragging two small trunks. James remembers her as Harriett, the colder of the two sisters. “Hello, James.”

“Hello Lucy, Harriett.” James nervously scrunches his fingers into Jacques’ soft jacket. “I – I hope your trip went well.”

“It went well.” Harriett has an unblinking stare that is starting to creep James out.

Jacques glares at both of them. “They _won’t_ be bothering us, dear,” he says between grit teeth. “They’ll be _staying the fuck_ out of our way for the weekend.”

“I think that sounds like a plan,” Lucy says.

Lucy smiles. Harriett does not. James finds that he likes Harriett better out of the two.

Jacques leads them off, reluctantly completely letting go of James to carry his luggage. James grabs his carry-on bag and hooks a hand around his elbow. Staying close helps, the stress of the crowd starting to bear down on him again.

The fresh air outside is a welcome relief, the chill bite of the October air clearing his head. James leads them to his car and helps load Jacques’ baggage. As always, Jacques helps James in first and closes the door behind him before hopping in the passenger side.

“Hey.” Jacques puts his hand over James’ on the ignition. “You’re trembling, dear. Are you alright?”

“I – I’m fine.” James swallows hard. Now that Jacques is this close in such a confined place, that familiar gnawing feeling in his gut is returning. “R-Really, Jacques-”

“You’re starving,” he accuses. “You can’t drive like this.” He shucks off his jacket and scoots in his seat so he’s unbearably close to James. Jacques has always run a little warmer than a normal person, but right now the heat of him is burning into James’ shoulder and eroding his normally steady self-control. “You should feed from me now. I’m sorry, I must have budgeted the backup supply wrong.”

James absently nods. The problem wasn’t the quantity but the quality, that James had experienced the unfortunate realization that stored human blood wasn’t going to do it for him anymore, that he had grown too used to feeding from a – from – from Jacques.

Fuck, but it still hurts to think about _what_ Jacques is.

Jacques mistakes his distress for hunger and pulls him close, guiding James’ mouth to his neck, to the latticework of bite mark scars that come from being a vampire’s personal supplier for about eighty years. Distracted by his own thoughts, James bites down on instinct and the tension in his shoulders finally loosens, even as Jacques’ body momentarily stiffens with pain.

James remembers himself after a few seconds, and realizes he’s locked on to Jacques much to forcefully. He loosens up and is gentle as he usually remembers to be, and pulls away long before he feels satisfied.

“Let’s go home,” James says. “I’m good now.”

“Home,” Jacques agrees, voice caught up in tenderness. He’s gazing at James like he sometimes does, like James is everything to him and nothing else in the world exists in that moment. “Home.”


End file.
